There are hills to climb, on the crooked highway from the city of Mexico to the sea, but the greater part of the distance is down, down, down, for its highest point is over seven thousand feet above tidewater. It was in a pass leading over this ridge that Ned Crawford looked around him, up and down and ahead, and exclaimed, as well as his chattering teeth would let him:

“Well, I’m glad there are no snow-drifts in my way. I suppose the army men look out for that. But don’t I wish I had an overcoat and some furs! Old Mount Orizaba can get up a first-class winter on his own account.”

It looked like it, and this part of his experiences had not been at all provided for. The Cordillera was very white, and its garment of snow and ice went down nearer to its feet than when Ned had first seen it. Moreover, the pony which had travelled so well when he cantered away from the Paez mansion, some days before, was showing signs of exhaustion, and it was manifestly well for him that he was now going down instead of climbing. So it was for Ned, and his uppermost wish was to hurry down into a more summery climate. He was still doing so, to the best of his shivering ability, two hours later, when a loud summons to halt sounded in the road before him.

“Whoop!” shouted Ned, and the soldier, who had presented his bayonet so sternly, was greeted as if he had been an old friend. Rapid explanations followed, in Spanish, but before they were completed an officer had made his appearance from a small but comfortable guard-house at the side of the road. He was only a lieutenant, and he appeared to gaze with more than a little awe upon the superscription of Ned’s precious government envelope. He turned it over and over, and almost smelled of it.

“SeÑor Carfora!” he exclaimed. “This must not be delayed for a moment! You must ride on, if it kills you. Come in and get a dinner. We will give you a fresh mount. Tell us the news while you are eating.”

“I will do so,” replied Ned, with a tremendous effort to stop shivering and look important. “But I will say that I was told that any man interfering with that despatch would be shot in one hour.”

“Beyond a doubt!” declared the lieutenant, with emphasis. “It would serve him right, too. This is no time for trifling with orders.”

A hearty dinner by a blazing log fire made the despatch-bearer feel a great deal better, but at the end of it no mercy was shown him. His fresh pony was ready, and he was ordered to mount and ride. He did so without offering any objections, and he carried with him the lieutenant’s written pass, for possible use further down the mountain. It was a good thing to have, but he was called upon to present it only twice, receiving in each instance positive instructions to push onward if it killed him and his new pony.

“I can’t stand this much longer!” he exclaimed, as the sun was setting. “I’m almost beyond the snow-line. I think I’ll disobey the guards a little, but I’ll keep on obeying SeÑora Paez. She told me on no account to try to sleep in a large town or village. They are all military posts, and too many questions might be asked. I’ll try a hacienda, just as I did on the other side of the mountains. Everybody wants to hear the news.”

Everybody in that region was also genuinely hospitable, and it was barely dusk when Ned rode in at the gate of a substantial farmhouse, to be welcomed with the utmost cordiality. Men, women, and children crowded eagerly around him, to hear all he could tell them of the great battle and victory of Angostura, and of the current doings in the capital city. A warm bed was given him, and after a long sleep he awoke somewhat better fitted for whatever else might be before him. Once more he pushed on, but before noon of that day all signs of winter were far behind him. He had passed through more than one considerable village, but so had other travellers, coming or going, who bore about them no appearance of being worth the attention of the military authorities. Another and another night in wayside farmhouses compelled him to admire more than ever the simple ways and the sincere patriotism of the Mexican farmers. All the while, however, his anxieties concerning the result of his perilous errand were growing upon him, and he was obediently using up his army pony. It was the forenoon of the third day before he was aroused from his other thoughts into anything like enthusiasm for the exceeding beauty of the luxuriant vegetation on either side of the road.

“Leaves! flowers! grass!” he exclaimed. “Oh, how beautiful they all are! Summer here, and winter only a few miles away. Hurrah for the tierra caliente! It’s a bully place at this time o’ year.”

At all events, it was a pleasanter place to be in than any icy pass among the Mexican sierras, and his thoughts were at liberty to come back to his present situation. He was not now upon the Cordoba road, by which he had left the gulf coast ever so long ago. This was the highway from the city of Jalapa. He was cantering along only a short distance from the seashore, and he was within a few miles of the gates of Vera Cruz.

“I remember them,” he was thinking. “I never had a good chance for a look at the walls, but I suppose I shall have one pretty soon. I wonder if they are thick enough to stop a cannon-ball. Captain Kemp told me they were built all around the city, but he didn’t say how high they are.”

Walls there were, indeed, but their masonry was not the next thing that was to be of especial interest to Ned. There is no kind of stonework which can compare, under certain circumstances, with the point of a lance or the edge of a machete, and the bearers of a number of such weapons were to be seen coming toward him at a gallop.

“It looks like a whole company of lancers!” exclaimed the anxious despatch-carrier. “Now I’m in for it! Everybody I met on the way was civil enough, but these may be a different kind of fellows.”

Whether they were or not, the whole force under General Morales was in a state of unusual excitement that day, for the report was going around that the American army brought by Commodore Connor’s fleet was rapidly coming ashore near Sacrificios Island, only three miles south of Vera Cruz. If Ned himself had been aware of it, he might have changed his plans and ridden right in among his own friends. As it was, however, in less than three minutes he had cantered in among a swarm of angry Mexicans and glittering spear-points. Their state of discipline was witnessed to by the fact that the captain in nominal command of them had some difficulty in obtaining from them permission to ask his own questions of this newcomer. When at last he succeeded in doing so, without first having his captive run through by a lance, it shortly looked as if Ned had been learning diplomacy, if not strategy also, during his varied and wonderful Mexican experiences.

“SeÑor Captain,” he said, quite coolly, pulling out his official envelope, “I am ordered to deliver this to General Morales in person. I am commanded to answer no questions. Any man daring to hinder the delivery of my despatches will be shot. They are important.”

“Where are you from?” came savagely back.

Ned only pointed at the envelope and shut his mouth hard.

“What is your errand to General Morales?”

Ned’s brain was working with tremendous rapidity just then, and one of his swift thoughts got away from him.

“Captain,” he said, “you had better ask that question of his Excellency, General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.”

The officer’s swarthy face turned pale for a moment, and all the men who had heard Ned’s reply broke out into loud vivas for their great commander-in-chief, the illustrious victor of the bloody field of Angostura. The entire company became at once the zealous guardians of that sacred envelope, which so few of them could have read, and the captain was forced to restrain his curiosity, and allow Ned to continue, keeping his mouth closed. For all that, however, the despatch-bearer was still a prisoner, and was to be conducted as such to the presence of General Morales. The lancers turned their horses toward the city, and the gates were reached as quickly as Ned’s tired pony could carry him. At this barrier, of course, there were other guards and officers of higher rank, and there might have been further delay, or even danger, if Ned had not promptly exhibited the magical envelope, while the captain himself repeated his own words for him, and curtly added:

“His Excellency, General Bravo! Viva Morales! Viva Santa Anna!”

That last word sealed the matter. The envelope was returned to its bearer, and he was conducted onward under the care of two colonels, several other officials, and a half-dozen of watchful lancers.

Ned shortly understood that General Morales had returned from the Castle of San Juan de Ulua to go out for a telescopic inspection of the American landing, and was now at his headquarters in the city.

“I guess I shall feel better after I get to him,” thought Ned, as he and his excited party halted before the headquarters building. “I may get stuck with a machete yet, if I have to wait long out here.”

He was neither to be delayed nor slaughtered, and in a few minutes more he was ushered into a handsomely furnished chamber, where the general was sitting, apparently entirely calm and self-possessed, surrounded by his staff and a throng of other important men, soldiers and civilians. He did not say a word while a colonel of the escort was delivering his report concerning this messenger, but he was all the while sharply scrutinizing Ned from head to foot.

“Gentlemen,” he then said to those around him, “this may be something of extraordinary importance. Come with me, Carfora!”

He arose from his chair, and Ned silently followed him into another room. As soon as they were shut in here by themselves, he turned fiercely upon the young despatch-bearer and demanded:

“Have you said anything to those men? Have you told a living soul what you know about these tidings?”

“No, general, not one word to anybody,” replied Ned, bravely, but there was a strange thrill at his heart, for he saw that he was in deadly peril.

Morales tore open the envelope, and found in it several official-looking papers which it did not take him long to read; but now Ned took out from an inner pocket three others which were much smaller. The general’s face flushed fiery red, and his eyes were flashing with excitement while he swiftly examined them.

“Carfora,” he exclaimed, “you are too young to have been sent on such an errand as this. General Bravo! Colonel Tassara! SeÑora Paez! General Zuroaga! Ah, Santa Maria! And our brave army was shattered at Angostura, after all. This is dreadful news! You shall die before I will allow you to spread it among my men!”

“I shall not do so,” said Ned, with his heart in his throat “But may I not tell them that General Santa Anna has checked the invasion at the north? Ought I not to say that he is now marching down to defend the capital, and that he is going to strengthen your army at Vera Cruz? Why, general, that is just what he is going to do.”

The general was silent for a moment, and appeared to be lost in thought.

“No, not now!” he then whispered between his set teeth, but Ned heard him. “If I shot him, it would make enemies of Zuroaga and the Tassaras and SeÑora Paez. Bravo would not care. Carfora,” he added, aloud, “you may go. You may talk as you have said, but you must not leave the city, and, if you say one word about our being defeated at Buena Vista, I will have you shot. There are too many desertions already, and I can’t afford to have my whole army stampeded by bad news.”

There was, therefore, an imperative military reason for keeping secret the truth concerning Santa Anna’s great victory, and Ned responded:

“General Morales, everybody will be asking me questions. I guess I know exactly what you wish me to tell. I was ordered to keep my mouth shut.”

“See that you do!” growled the general. “Or a musket-ball will shut it for you. Go out now. If I want you, I shall be able to find you.”

They walked out of the inner room together, and they found the main office crowded, as if many more had hurried in to hear the expected news.

“Gentlemen! Fellow citizens!” shouted the general, enthusiastically, as he waved his packet of despatches over his head. “This is glorious! Our illustrious commander-in-chief, after having given such a severe lesson to our barbarous invaders at the north, is marching with his entire force to our own assistance. He will soon crush our assailants on the seacoast as he has the gringo mob under Taylor!”

A storm of cheers responded, and the entire crowd seemed disposed to exchange hugs and handshakes, while he turned to an officer at a table.

“By the Way, major,” he said, “write an order for quarters and rations for General Bravo’s messenger, Carfora. I may need him again in a few days. Keep track of him. He is a civilian, but he is a trusted agent of certain parties whom you may know.”

The major began to write something, and, as he did so, Ned believed that he heard him muttering words which sounded like: “Humph! Messenger of his Excellency, Santa Anna! We will take good care of him!”

Then the general carelessly signed the paper, which the major prepared for him, and Ned walked quietly out into the open air. Once there, however, he took a hasty look at his “order for rations,” and discovered that with it he had now in his possession a full headquarters army pass, which permitted him to come and go anywhere, through the gates and all the lines, without hindrance from anybody. He was established as an accepted and even honored confidential despatch-bearer of the commander-in-chief of all the armies of Mexico. He was not now to get entirely away without difficulty, however, for the whole building had been full of men who were eager for all the news he could give them, and they had followed him. They seized upon him as if he had been the last edition of an evening newspaper, containing the reports of all the past and with, probably, the news for to-morrow morning also somewhere inside of him. He did not get away from them for some time, and when he did so, at last, he was sure of being recognized by a considerable number of patriotic Mexicans, if they ever should meet him again. That might make him safer, although he was no longer in any immediate danger. Moreover, although he was not in uniform, the cut and quality of his clothing informed every person he met that he belonged to the higher orders, while the machete at his side and the pistols in his belt appeared to indicate that he was in some way connected with the army.

“I know what I want to do next,” he was thinking. “My pony and my satchel are at the headquarters stables. I can get them whenever I want them. I must go to the Tassara place. I can find it. Then I must manage to put them there, so that I won’t have to show myself at the headquarters unless I’m sent for.”

He had no difficulty in finding the Tassara homestead, and there was no observer anywhere near him when he stood in front of the dwelling which had been his first hospitable refuge in Mexico. It had now, of course, a lonely and shut-up look, and there was no getting in at the front door, for much knocking failed to bring a door-keeper. Giving that up, therefore, he made his way around to the rear, through the unoccupied stables.

“There is hay enough here for my pony,” he remarked, “but I had half expected that the house would be turned into quarters for troops.”

He may have overlooked the fact that the Tassaras were friends of General Morales, and that their house was under his protection. If it were supposed to be so, nevertheless, he had cause to forget it again when he came to the back door, for it stood wide open, with an appearance of having been unlocked with a hammer.

“Hullo!” he exclaimed. “I wonder if there is anybody in there now?”

The thought somehow made him draw his machete, and he went on into the house as if he were looking for a fight. The dining-room was entered first, and it was utterly empty. Not so much as a chair was left, although its owners had certainly not taken any furniture away with them in their hasty escape by night, with Ned and Zuroaga. It looked a little queer, to say the least, and, as he went on from room to room, he found precisely such a state of things everywhere else.

“I declare!” said Ned. “Either their friends or some robbers have cleaned this place of all there was in it that was worth stealing. Not so much as a bed left. I’ll go and take a look at my old room. It was a cubby-hole of a place, but it would do first-rate for me now.”

Perhaps it was so small and so out of the way that Ned had an agreeable surprise ready for him when he reached it, for there still hung his hammock, and nothing else in the room had been molested.

“Hurrah!” he shouted. “I’ve looked into every other room in the house, and this is the only one they didn’t finish. I guess I’ll camp here to-night, after I’ve been out to get something to eat.”

It was true that he had orders for army rations, if he had known where to find them, but he was also able to purchase whatever he might need, and he preferred to do so. At the same time, he had a clear understanding that, if he expected to ever see the United States again, he had better not show a great deal of cash in the city of Vera Cruz just now.

“There are plenty of fellows here,” he remarked, “who would cut my throat for a silver dollar, let alone a gold piece.”

He sheathed his machete peaceably, and went out by the back door, determining to let as few people as possible suspect that the Tassara mansion contained a boarder,—or it was more nearly correct to say lodger. This was a wise decision to make, but he was not to hunt far for his supplies that evening. Hardly had he gone a hundred paces from the Tassara place before he was unceremoniously halted, and it was not by a lancer this time. Before him, blocking his way, stood a very fat and apparently much astonished woman.

“Madre de Dios!” she loudly exclaimed. “SeÑor Carfora! Santa Maria! Santa Catarina! San Jago! Diablos! Where did you come from?”

Ned had never before heard himself called by all those pet names, but he knew at a glance that this was no other than Anita, formerly the cook of SeÑora Tassara, and believed to be a devoted friend of the family.

“Anita!” he exclaimed. “I’ll tell you!” and he proceeded to do so, to her great gratification, for she was as hungry for news as he was for his rations.

“You come to my house,” she said, “and I will give you something fit to eat, and that is a good deal to say in Vera Cruz in these days. Santa Maria! How these ragged banditti do devour everything. We are to be devoured by the accursed gringos, too, and we must eat while we can.”

Her idea, as a good cook, appeared to be that, if several thousands of people were about to be shut up and starved to death, they ought all to feed themselves as liberally as possible before the actual process of starvation should begin. Ned felt a strong sympathy with that notion, as he walked along with her, and he was ready to tell her anything but the perilous truth concerning the lost battle at the north. As to that, it was quite enough to assure her and half a dozen other patriotic Mexican women, who were at her humble home when he went in, that the great and successful General Santa Anna was hastening to rescue them from the American barbarians who were at this hour getting ashore with a great deal of difficulty through the surf, which was wetting every uniform among them. If anything at all resembling a “norther” had been blowing, the landing would necessarily have been postponed until it had blown over. Among other things, however, Ned told Anita of his visit to the house, and when the very good supper was ended, she led him to a room which must have contained at least a third of all the space under her roof. It was anything but hollow space now, for it was heaped to the ceiling with furniture, beds, bedding, and a miscellaneous collection of other household goods.

“There, SeÑor Carfora!” she said, exultingly. “The Puebla robbers did get some things, but we saved all these. They were not ready to carry off heavy stuff, and when they came again, with a cart, at night, it had all been cared for. The seÑora has not lost so much, after all.”

“You are a faithful woman!” said Ned, admiringly. “I’m glad, too, that they could not steal the house, for I want to sleep there.”

“It’s the best place you can find,” she told him. “But you had better always bar the door at night, and sleep with your machete and pistols where you can reach them.”